


The Dangerous One

by aflawedfashion



Category: Defiance (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-13 04:46:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12976233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aflawedfashion/pseuds/aflawedfashion
Summary: A night in the NeedWant as everything changes, but before everything breaks.Kenya Rosewater never could resist the dangerous ones.After Kenya pushed Nolan away, she fell into bed with Stahma Tarr, never believing she was another Hunter Bell, but rather a victim of her husband's cruelty.





	The Dangerous One

**Author's Note:**

> Kenya's perception of Stahma is obviously not entirely accurate.

Kenya Rosewater thumbed the scrip in her hand, a smile on her face as she looked down over the NeedWant. Her establishment was thriving. Humans and Votans flirted, alcohol sloshing from their glasses. Her night porters slid through the crowd, making new friends with seductive glances and tentative touches. Kenya’s heart warmed at the sight. 

“I can only hope my evening leaves me half as satisfied as you look,” Deirdre said, leaning against the railing beside Kenya. 

Deirdre Lamb, better known as Treasure Doll, was one of Kenya's newest night porters, but her lofty ambitions raised her above so many of the young people who tried prostitution on like a hat, swiftly tossing it aside when they realized it didn't fit them. 

“You look like you have been properly fucked,” Deirdre added. Her blonde hair fell around her face in a “just rolled out of bed look” that took her 20 minutes to perfect. She understood the business of sex.

“Mmmm.” Kenya could still feel where Stahma had placed her hands, could still smell her Casti perfume on her skin. 

“Somehow you always find the good ones.” Deirdre leaned towards Kenya, their arms brushing together. “So who’s the dream client?” Deirdre nodded towards the crowd below. ”I see your last one has his eyes elsewhere.”

Kenya furrowed her brow, following Deirdre’s gaze. "My client requests anonymity," she answered, searching the crowd, expecting to see one of her night porters wrapping their arms around Nolan. What she found was anything but expected. Her sister was drunkenly tipping into Nolan’s lap as they drank together at the bar, an uncharacteristically flirtatious smile on Amanda’s face.

“Wow,” Kenya muttered.

“You didn’t know?” Deirdre turned to face Kenya, her eyes betraying a mix of friendly concern and a hunger for gossip. 

“No.” Kenya watched Amanda reach for the bottle, refilling their glasses as Nolan laughed. “I didn’t know.” Nolan touched Amanda’s arm, innocent but meaningful. “I had no idea.”

“I’m sorry.” Deirdre frowned. “But, hey, you’ve got your new client, right?”

“Yeah.” Kenya nodded, butterflies fluttering in her stomach. There was nothing as exciting as the new and unknown. “She’s special.”

Deirdre rolled her eyes. “And there you go falling for another client.”

"I'm not falling for her," Kenya said, unconvincingly defensive of her non-feelings. "I'm enjoying her company." 

"Hey, I don't judge." A dreamy smile crossed Deirdre's face. "I'd love to be swept off my feet by a wealthy client, never having to work again. It's my ultimate fantasy."

“I don’t feel like I'm in a fantasy.” Kenya frowned. “This one scares me.”

“Why?”

“She’s in a bad relationship.” Kenya turned to face Deirdre. “She'll never sweep me off my feet, and I know that. I can live with that, but I can’t live with knowing she'd rather die than leave someone who abuses her.”

“Maybe you can help her.”

“Maybe.” Kenya shrugged. “I just wish she would listen to me and see me as...” 

“A person.”

“Yeah.”

“Hey, It could happen- Shtako, there’s my next client.” Deirdre squeezed Kenya’s arm. “Call me later, and we can finish this conversation.” She playfully raised her eyebrows. “Or if you need to blow off steam. My next client won’t be quite as fun as yours, and I’ll be looking for some company.” 

“Thanks for the offer,” Kenya said with a laugh. The girl was bold.

Deirdre brushed Kenya’s arm with the back of her hand. “I’ll even charge you half price.”

“Oh, really.” Kenya folded her arms, a grin on her face. “ _ You’ll _ charge  _ me  _ half price? I think it’s the other way around.”

“Fine.” Deirdre tossed a flirtatiously competitive glance at Kenya as she turned to leave. “We can decide who pays at the end of the night.”

Kenya shook her head, her gaze returning to the crowd below as the sound of Deirdre’s heels faded into the music. Amanda smiled, and so did Kenya. Maybe Kenya was supposed to feel jealous, supposed to be upset that her sister was flirting with her ex-something, but Amanda’s happiness was Kenya's happiness. It was all Kenya ever wanted for Amanda. 

As she watched them together, she promised herself that she would never say a word in opposition as long as he made her happy - an easy promise to keep. Kenya didn’t need Nolan to combat her lonely nights. Amanda could have him, should have him. Kenya had other clients, other thrills… thrills in white.

Kenya bit her lip, thoughts of Stahma’s skin against her own racing through her mind. Stahma excited her, made her feel powerful, made her feel alive. Nolan was fun, but Nolan was safe. The lawkeeper, a man on the mayor’s payroll, every dollar accounted for. Favi Tarr, the wife of a Casti mob boss, was anything but safe. At the end of every session, Stahma pressed her illegally obtained scrip into Kenya’s hand. Her long fingernails dug into Kenya’s skin, a warning.  _ Never tell anyone _ .

Kenya tried to convince herself that she was drawn to Stahma because she was good in bed and bursting with hidden potential, but she knew that wasn’t the whole explanation. If that was all she wanted, she never would have dumped Nolan. An arkhunter straight from the badlands was exciting, but when he became her sister-approved boyfriend, she walked away from him and fell straight into bed with a woman her sister hated. 

The dangerous ones enchanted Kenya every time. 

Kenya risked her life by being with Stahma. 

But Stahma was worth the risk. 

She knew she had to be careful, but she truly believed that Stahma Tarr was nothing like Hunter Bell. Stahma had her own Hunter. The danger behind their relationship wasn’t in Stahma, but in what her husband would do to them if he ever learned the truth. Stahma was sweet smiles and shy glances while Datak was violent smirks and cold glares. With every day Kenya spent with Stahma, she grew increasingly convinced that Stahma needed to be saved from her husband. 

Kenya took a deep breath, pushing aside her darkest thoughts, and walked down the stairs. She smoothed her robes to make herself presentable for her sister and her ex, the mayor and the lawkeeper. A hint of guilt tugged at the back of her mind. She knew her sister would say the same things about Stahma that she said about Hunter.

“Hey,” Amanda said, looking up from the bar.

“You two seem to be having a good night.” Kenya smiled as she ducked behind the bar, grabbing a shot glass and a bottle of liquor for herself. “I think I’ve got some catching up to do.” 

Amanda leaned against Nolan’s shoulder, watching Kenya prepare her drink. “Just blowing off some steam.” 

“Long day,” Nolan added, a tired smile on his face. 

“You know what blowing off steam usually means around here?” Kenya held the shot glass to her lips and leaned across the bar. She met Nolan’s gaze. Then Amanda’s. With the raise of an eyebrow, she looked to the second floor of the NeedWant.

Amanda shook her head, a light blush on her cheeks. “Maybe for you, but for me, it’s just a good glass of scotch.”

“Of course.” Kenya downed her shot, the cool liquid burning against her throat. “But I’m glad you two are such good friends.” Her smile grew. “And if you want to be even better friends, that would be great too.” 

"We’re already pretty-“ Amanda started to say before knocking over her glass. “Shit.”

"How drunk are you?" Kenya asked, laughing at her sister’s lack of coordination.

"We’re buzzed,” Amanda said as Kenya pulled a towel out from behind the bar. “That’s all.”

“Speak for yourself," Nolan said, "I am definitely drunk." And he was right. They were both too drunk to realize what Kenya was suggesting, too drunk to realize they were flirting in front of her. They wouldn’t have done it if they had. 

As Kenya finished wiping down the bar, she caught sight of expensive white robes at a corner table. Stahma Tarr was eating dinner in her establishment, creating an alibi for anyone who spotted her mingling with prostitutes and degenerates.

She could picture Stahma saying, “I wanted to try the human food.” Then she would smile innocently. “I hear the men find it so delectable.” She would watch her friends nod, pretending to believe the story, pretending they had never tried the more enticing offerings served on the second floor of the NeedWant. Not one of them would ever find the courage to tell the truth about their own desires.

“Do you think people can change?” Kenya asked.

“It depends,” Nolan answered. 

“On what?” Kenya turned to face him with hope rising in her chest. If Nolan believed people could change despite all the horrors he had seen in his life, then it had to be true.

“If they want to.” Nolan stared straight into her eyes. “And if they’re capable.” 

“I like to think everyone’s capable of improving themselves,” Amanda said as Kenya covertly attempted to watch Stahma from the corner of her eye.

“I’d like to think that too,” Nolan said. 

“But you don’t,” Amanda finished his thought as Stahma delicately pressed a glass of wine to her lips.

“No.” 

“Amanda’s the eternal optimist.” Kenya smiled at her sister. “She never gives up on anyone, even the hopeless.” 

“I’ve noticed.” Nolan’s eyes lit up as he looked at Amanda with a mix of adoration and admiration that he never showed Kenya. If Kenya ever held doubts over ending things with him, those doubts were dashed. Their relationship was fun and sex. It wasn't love. 

“But,” Nolan continued, a somber expression clouding his face as he turned from Amanda, “you can’t save people from themselves when they don’t want to be saved. You’re only wasting your time if you try.” 

“How can I know if someone’s hopeless?” Kenya watched Stahma brush the hair away from her face. She looked so sweet, so innocent, so out of place in the NeedWant. Kenya's heart ached. She could never believe Stahma was the dangerous Tarr.

“I wish I could answer that.” 

“Why are you asking?” Amanda reached for Kenya’s hand, concern etched on her face. 

“Don’t worry.” Kenya squeezed her sister’s hand. “I’ve just got a client in a bad relationship. I want her to see that her girlfriend isn’t good for her.” By changing a single word, Amanda would never suspect Kenya was talking about Stahma Tarr. 

Nolan nodded sympathetically. “I think you’re the expert on this one, Kenya.” 

“Yeah,” Amanda added. “If anyone can help her, it's you.” 

“Thank you, both of you.” Kenya grabbed a bottle of wine, an idea rushing through her mind. “But I’ve got work to do. I think Tirra could use some help out there.”

"Don't work too hard," Amanda said. 

"You know I will," Kenya replied as she stepped out from behind the bar.

“Good evening, Favi Tarr,” Kenya said, approaching Stahma’s table. “Another glass?” She raised the wine bottle.

“Yes, thank you.”

“I’m surprised to see you still here.” Kenya’s voice was barely above a whisper, her body leaning unnecessarily far across the table as she refilled Stahma’s glass. “It’s a good surprise.”

Stahma’s eyes darted around the room with a subtle fear, searching for anyone who might recognize her. “I hear the food is delicious.”

“It is.” Kenya met Stahma’s gaze, her thumb brushing against Stahma’s arm as she set the bottle down. “I just wanted to say that I'm glad you’re out of the house again, away from him. It’s so good to see you do things for yourself, even if it’s just having dinner.”

“My husband has business to attend to tonight or else I would be with him.”

“Of course.”

“You have a lovely establishment,” Stahma said as if she hardly knew Kenya, as if she had never taken a reprieve from her husband between Kenya’s sheets. She looked at Kenya while she spoke, but every word was meant for eavesdroppers. “I can see why it makes you so happy.”

“Wouldn’t you like to be that happy?” Kenya wanted to pull Stahma out of her chair and kiss her in front of everyone, but she refrained. Stahma was her client. Refraining was her job. 

“I am happy,” Stahma stated.

“No.” Kenya stood tall. The forced smile fell from her lips. “I’ve been where you are. I know you think you’re happy, but you’re not. You’re lying to yourself." She picked up the bottle of wine, taking step back from Stahma's table. "And when you’re ready to face the truth, I’ll be here.”


End file.
